Jerusalem - Shabbat Arrived

I jumped off the truck coming from the smelting heat of the Jordan valley. It was a Friday in August and the sun was already low over Damascus Gate. It was the entrance to another world. If cities could speak, ohhh the stories Jerusalem could tell. Tales of pitched battles, solemn prophets and biblical events would keep audiences enraptured. But not only history is present everywhere, actually you will be put right on the pages of history yourself. The long and narrow Souq Khan as Zeit Street brings you in the heart of it. Jews, Muslims and Christians live shoulder to shoulder since ever. Therefore nobody is an outsider and I immediately felt to be part of Jerusalem with its Christian heritage. I took the steep steps down to the Western Wall when the long, low Shabbat siren wailed across the city. Tzitzit fluttered from the hips of men while women gently lifted their long skirts over the paving stones. Everyone seems to have a prayer book tucked under an arm and a purposeful look on their face. Bearded Hassidic men, soldiers in olive-green fatigues and white-shirted yeshiva students competed in song sound-offs. Laying my hands on the wall and closing my eyes caused my life flashed before my eyes. I was blurred by the energy of this place and left as a passenger in the stream of history. Shabbat arrived.